Sunday Night at the Park
by rindy713
Summary: An evening to remember for Bobby and Alex. Pre-ship.
1. Pregame

**Here's a little something for the baseball fans out there. I've been feeling sad about Yankee Stadium closing, and this little idea popped into my head. It's three chapters, all finished, and I'll post them quickly. Then I'll get back to work on "Holding Court."**

**Chapter 1: Pregame**

Bobby Goren hunched over his desk, staring bleary-eyed at his completed stack of paperwork. The triple homicide was solved, sealed and ready to be delivered after a wrenching, seven-hour interrogation that had lasted into the wee hours.

He looked up at the clock to his right on the bullpen wall: 3:27. Half of the ceiling lights were off, and he and his partner, Alex Eames, were the last two detectives in the 20-desk room. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"Tired, champ?" Alex teased as she brushed a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear and mustered a smile that barely reached her dark-circled eyes.

"Champ?" he repeated quizzically.

"You're still the best. You were brilliant in there. You systematically broke him down, piece by piece, hour by hour. I have to admit, it was awesome to watch."

Bobby grinned. "I think you're forgetting that I was playing off of you. We had him in an emotional crossfire, and that's what brought him down. We're one helluva team when we're on our game."

"Well, thank goodness the game is over. I've spent so much adrenaline tonight I wouldn't have anything left if there were extra innings."

"I think we already played the extra innings, Eames. That's why we're so worn out."

Alex laughed and turned toward the printer, grabbing the last few forms it had just spit out. She added them to her stack and shoved the pile toward his, as if their chips were all in at a poker game. "Done!" she pronounced happily. "It's now officially our weekend."

"I can't believe Ross gave us a Friday off."

"Hey, we earned it. We wrapped up the case. For that matter, we already worked it. We've been here since this morning, remember? … Uh, make that yesterday morning now."

Bobby nodded and then tilted his head as he looked at her. "Big plans this weekend?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that exciting. Lots of sleep, a little shopping, dinner with my family on Saturday night. You're welcome to come. They'd love to see you."

"Thanks, but I'm going to do some serious baseball watching all weekend. The Mets are at Atlanta, and the division title is still up for grabs. It's the next-to-last weekend of the regular season, you know."

Alex smiled at him. The twin distractions of work and baseball had been a big help as he struggled with grief and assorted other painful emotions after the death of his brother. She knew he wanted to feel better; she believed he would get there eventually. And they were regaining their stride as a partnership. She could feel it throughout their most recent investigation. Tired as she was, she felt hope surge inside her.

"Hey, I've got some baseball plans this weekend too," she said proudly. "I'm going to watch baseball on TV all day Sunday."

Bobby frowned, trying to figure that one out. He knew she liked baseball, but a whole day watching … oh, yeah. "The Yankees, right? The last game at the stadium."

"Yep, ESPN will be there from lunchtime to the end of the night."

"Didn't figure you for a baseball couch potato, Eames. Unless a certain player showed up to give you a foot massage."

She laughed. Of course he would remember the remark she made years ago. "Well, I wouldn't turn that down. But seriously, Sunday is a really special day. I can't believe they're going to tear the stadium down. It's so sad. I have a ton of family memories, starting when I was 4 years old. I have to watch the last game and all the hoopla."

"I'll probably watch some of it too," Bobby admitted. "I respect the history and tradition, even though I'm a Mets fan."

"I just wish I could be there. But I guess every Yankee fan on the force volunteered for that security detail."

"Yeah, probably so," Bobby mused, his brain suddenly shifting into a higher gear. "Well, what do you say I drop the paperwork on the captain's desk and we get out of here?"

"Works for me," she said, rising with a stretch and a yawn. "I can't wait to get home and into bed."

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At 10 a.m. sharp, Bobby's alarm went off. Shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper curls, reached for his cell phone and dialed the main number at One Police Plaza. "This is Detective Goren. I need Sergeant Grimes in Special Events."

A click and two rings later, he heard, "Grimes."

"Hi, Sergeant. This is Bobby Goren."

"Goren?! You son of a gun, I haven't heard from you in … what, three years? Where you been? Too good for Shea security these days?"

"Man, you know better. Just working hard, and besides, your guys do a great job out there. You don't need me anymore."

"Yeah, in a pennant race, I usually get plenty of help. But I haven't forgotten how you helped in the lean times."

"So, does that mean you could do me a huge, huge favor this weekend?"

"Well," Grimes said, grinning into the phone as he anticipated the request. "There's always a chance I can help out an old friend."

"How about an old friend's partner? My partner, Alex Eames, is a Yankee fan, from a family of cops and Yankee fans. Any chance you could find a spot for her on the security detail Sunday night?"

Grimes frowned. "Hmmm. I thought you were going to ask for yourself, Bobby. And I could use a guy your size for something in particular. Two of my top guys just caught a case this morning, and they think it's going to keep them tied up all weekend."

"Well, if you need two, Alex and I would love to help."

"I don't know, Bobby. Women who try to get on these details tend to be starry-eyed about the players, and besides, there could be some physical aspects to this. I need big guys who can intimidate unruly fans, and I don't need any swooning women."

"Grimes, you don't know my partner. She doesn't swoon. And she doesn't rattle. And as for toughness, I may look intimidating, but she can kick my ass. I'm the brains of the partnership, and she's the muscle," he said with a reassuring chuckle.

"Seriously, Bobby, you'll vouch for that? I can't afford a mistake. I'm trusting you for a straight answer."

"Seriously, Grimes, she won't let you down. And neither will I."

"OK, buddy. You just got you and your partner some dugout duty."

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Bobby wheeled the Mustang out of the 1PP garage and headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge entryway. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and hit 1 on his speed dial. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi, Eames, it's me. Did I wake you?"

She yawned. "Mmmm, that's OK. What time is it?"

"About 2:30. Time to get up."

"What for? We're off today. I can sleep as late as I want. And I didn't get to bed until almost 5."

"Well, you need to get up because I'm coming over. Got any coffee?"

"I will by the time you get here."

"OK, I've got muffins."

"In that case I won't kill you for waking me up at this ungodly hour."

Bobby laughed. "2:30? Ungodly? Eames, I've been up since 10."

"I guess I should thank my lucky stars you didn't want breakfast then, huh?"

Bobby grinned. "I'm on the bridge right now. Get that coffee perking."

He hung up and punched a button on the Mustang's radio. Classic rock blared from the speakers – "Jumpin' Jack Flash" by the Stones. Just right for Bobby's mood. He could feel the adrenaline kick in as he found the beat and started tapping the steering wheel. Just wait till Alex sees what I'm bringing besides the muffins, he thought happily.

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Alex had managed to pull herself together quickly after she hung up. Start the coffee, hit the shower, throw on a favorite pair of worn jeans and a snug-fitting, sky blue T-shirt. Comb through the hair, just a dash of makeup, and she was ready for her partner to arrive.

I wonder what he's up to, she thought. She could always tell when he had something up his sleeve. Secretly she was pleased. Whatever it was, she knew she would like it. Bobby was thoughtful and sensitive and great at little surprises that brightened her life.

Not that she could tell her partner, but just being around him brightened her life. She wondered if she would ever find the courage to hint to him about how she felt. As she pulled a couple of mugs and breakfast plates out of the cabinets, her mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to feel his arms encircle her, his head dip and his lips draw near to hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his scent, imagining his breath caressing her cheek …

Ding-dong! The doorbell. Alex opened her eyes, blushing as she headed for the door. Knock it off, Eames, she thought.

As she opened the door, Bobby was dazzled by flashes of blue and blonde and pink cheeks. His eyes lit up and he smiled goofily. "Good morning, Eames. Uh, actually that's good afternoon, I guess."

"C'mon in, Bobby. Coffee's ready. Traffic not too bad today, huh?" she said, pulling her eyes away from him with some difficulty. Those black jeans and that charcoal gray sweater … he looked better than a chocolate chip muffin.

"Not at this hour," he said as he followed her into the dining nook.

She filled the mugs and brought them to the table. As she added spoonfuls of sugar to her coffee, she eyed the larger than expected brown bag on the table. "Mmmmmm. Got some treats in there?"

"Maybe you should reach in and find out," he said, the goofy grin getting wider.

Grabbing the bag, she slid her hand in. Her fingertips found soft, warm baked things … and something else. Plastic. She frowned and felt the item against the side of the bag. Definitely thick plastic. Rectangular. About three inches wide, extending deep into the bag. She grabbed an edge and pulled it out.

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled. Bobby just kept grinning. He was almost bouncing in the chair. You'd think he'd just given her a diamond ring.

She looked at it closely. What was that piece of cardboard in the plastic? Turning it around so she could see the other side, she read the words printed on it. Security, in large letters. NYPD. Field pass. The date: Sunday, Sept. 21, 2008. Yankee Stadium. Her eyes widened. So did Bobby's grin. And then she saw the red stamp. First-base dugout. Her jaw dropped. "Bobby?" she said softly. "Is this … real?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling shyly and reaching into his back pocket. "No big deal. I've got one too." He held it up. A matching pair. "I hope you don't mind, but I volunteered us to work Sunday."

She shook her head, still dazed, and looked down at the field pass again. Then she got up, stepped toward him and threw her arms around his neck. Startled, Bobby recovered quickly and wrapped his arms around her back. It felt soooo good to hold her in his arms. Boy, was this little trick worth the effort, he thought.

After a moment, Alex let go and stepped back. She looked him in the eyes, and he could see a little bit of mist in hers. "This is … an incredibly wonderful thing to do. H-how did you pull it off?"

Tilting his head and looking down at the floor, he shrugged. "Sergeant Grimes, the supervisor for Special Events, is an old friend. I used to work security details for him at Shea Stadium sometimes on my off days or for big games. I called to ask a favor and found out he had a late cancellation. I've worked dugouts for him before. It's not something you trust to just anybody. I think he was as happy as I was that I called right when he was trying to figure out how to replace his dugout guys."

"Bobby, you really are amazing," Alex said, shaking her head. "This is the best bag of muffins you've ever brought me."

"Good, 'cause I'm hungry," he said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a blueberry muffin. Totally content, he took a big bite and savored the moment.


	2. Game Day

**Chapter 2: Game Day**

Forty-eight hours later, they were in Yankee Stadium. Both wore the blue uniforms of street cops; the more visible the police were on this occasion, the better. Anyone who might look for trouble needed to know that the opposition was too formidable to challenge.

They were sitting on the bench at the far end of the Yankee dugout. Near the on-deck circle, a TV crew was live for the lengthy pregame show. Across the field, fans were lined up to visit Monument Park, where Yankee legends were honored.

"I must be losing weight," Bobby mused, running a hand over his stomach, which had indeed shrunk a bit over the past several months. "I wasn't sure my uniform would fit when I tried it on yesterday. Glad I didn't have to go buy a new one."

"You look terrific, Goren," Alex said with a grin and a wink. "The female fans are going to be checking you out instead of the players."

"Likewise, Eames," he said, returning the smile. "You better hope the team isn't too distracted to play well."

She laughed at that. "I bet we'll all do our jobs tonight. This is way too special to screw up."

Shortly after 4, the fans were shooed from the field, and the players began trickling out for batting practice. They hopped up the steps, metal spikes clattering on the concrete, and trotted onto the field.

Alex leaned over to Bobby and said quietly, "They're not as big as I thought they would be."

Bobby chuckled. "Larger than life, you mean?"

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed. "But most of them are smaller than my partner."

"They're in way better shape, though," Bobby said, just a tad wistfully.

Alex smiled, reached over and rubbed her hand along his forearm. "I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

He sat a little taller, straightened his shoulders and grinned at her, and she felt warm inside. He's just as special as they are, she thought.

They watched for a while, just sitting there together on the bench, looking out at the expanse of grass, feeling a cool late summer breeze and sensing the ghosts of baseball greats around them. Alex told Bobby some of her dad's stories of seeing the stars of the 1950s and '60s. "He'd love to be here tonight, but he knows he can see it better on TV. His eyes aren't as good as they used to be."

Then she shared with Bobby her memories of her early visits to the stadium, starting when she was 4. Her sisters weren't interested in sports, but whenever her dad and brothers headed to the stadium, Alex determinedly tagged along.

Too soon it was 5:15, time to check in at the command post and take a little dinner break. They rose, reluctantly breaking the spell, and headed for the tunnel that led deep into the stadium. At the command post, a burly, red-faced Sergeant Grimes was giving instructions rapid-fire to groups of two and three officers. He paused when Goren and Eames arrived and pulled them aside.

"OK, you two ready for tonight?" he asked, looking more at Alex than Bobby.

"We're ready, Sarge," Bobby answered for them. "Eames and I have gone over all the procedures, and I've given her all the tips I can think of."

"Just remember, Detective, keep switching your focus back and forth throughout the game," he told Alex. "Keep an eye on the action. The ball moves faster than you expect, so if you get hit, it can do some serious damage. But between pitches, keep scanning the stands. Look for anyone getting drunk, mouthy, surly. The later we go, the more beer they'll have in them. And when the game's over, that's when it can get really crazy. At that point, we'll have reinforcements ringing the field, but you'll be in the best position to finger the troublemakers."

Alex showed no resentment at Grimes for going over the basics that she and Bobby had already discussed, as if she were a raw rookie. On this particular assignment, she _was_ a rookie. But she was determined to get it right.

"Bobby said he mentally divides the nearby sections into blocks and memorizes the faces," Alex said, "so by the end of the game, any interlopers will stand out. And by personalizing it like that, he can keep track of who's not holding his beer well."

"Yeah, that's good. He could always read the faces and nail the behavior in his heyday at Shea. If you can do half as well, we'll be fine tonight."

"I'll do my best," she said solemnly, though she managed to sneak a smirk at Bobby as Grimes was momentarily distracted.

The sergeant turned back to them. "OK, take a break. Get something to eat. Showtime is at 6 sharp. Be in place."

"We'll be there," Bobby assured him as Alex nodded, and the two partners left to wander the concourse.

"Those hot dogs smell delicious," Bobby said as he caught the scent from a concession stand.

"Eat too many of those, Goren, and you won't fit into that uniform," Alex teased, catching his ribs lightly with her elbow.

"Ouch!" he responded with a mock frown. "You bruised my ego."

She laughed, and Bobby felt warm all over. It was great to see her so happy. She was fully enjoying this treat, walking on air, and he felt right up there with her, 10 feet tall, because he'd been able to make it happen.

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The next few hours were full of wonder, excitement and hard work. Bobby's spot was next to the camera well at the home plate end of the dugout, and Alex was next to the cameras at the other end. They had perfect vantage points for all the pregame ceremonies, as living Yankee greats and relatives of those who had died popped out of the dugout to be honored. The starting lineup was announced, and the band played the national anthem.

All the while, there were people to watch, faces to memorize, beers to count, cheers and jeers to tune in to. Alex found a rhythm, taking in the activities on the field, then shifting toward the stands. Field, stands. Field, stands. Occasionally she caught Bobby's eye. At one point, she gave him a thumbs-up, and he nodded and grinned.

The game began, and the Orioles jumped in front early. A homer put the Yanks on top, but Baltimore tied it up. Another homer gave New York the lead again.

Alex and Bobby each picked a few potential troublemakers to keep an eye on in the early innings and made adjustments to their watch lists as the game went on. About midway through the game, Bobby began keeping a closer eye on two guys in the eighth row of the section above him, just to the home plate side of the dugout. They had been drinking steadily, and the big guy – about 6-3 and a good 270 pounds – had made three trips to the concession stands because the beer vendors weren't coming by often enough to suit him. Big Guy was plenty loud, taunting the opposing players throughout, occasionally with language that wasn't good for kids in the surrounding sections to hear. A police officer in the stands had spoken to him at one point, trying to get him to tone it down.

Bobby wasn't sure exactly when he started to wonder about Big Guy's buddy. This one was much smaller and quieter, but there was something about his face, the look in his eyes. … He was wearing an Oriole sweatshirt, and Big Guy had been teasing him good-naturedly in the early innings. As more beer flowed, the teasing turned to taunting and arguing. As the end of the game neared, Big Guy got louder and more boastful, and Buddy grew more sullen.

Leading 7-3, the Yankees brought their closer in from the bullpen for the ninth inning. He quickly disposed of the Baltimore hitters, and waves of cheers washed over the stadium. The players poured out of the dugout and onto the field to celebrate, and Alex and Bobby stepped out on the grass to keep an eye on the fans as they surged toward the railings. A player was handed a microphone and addressed the crowd, paying tribute to the memories and to the fans' dedication to their team.

For the most part, the people in the stands had been well-behaved. The lack of incidents throughout the night was remarkable, especially considering how excited everyone was and how long some of the fans had been there … and thus, how much time there had been for alcohol consumption.

Now, with the players leaving the field, the fans were standing and cheering, and many were crowding to the front rows for a closer look. Bobby spotted Big Guy and Buddy shoving their way toward the railing, pushing other people aside. His body tensed, and he grabbed the radio from his belt to warn of a possible problem developing. He barely had time to finish the call when Big Guy vaulted over the railing, stumbled and then gathered himself. He rushed around the outside of the camera well, hoping to slip into the dugout and reach the departing players. But Bobby was there to meet him, restraining him with a bear hug. Big Guy was a handful – two hands full, actually – and Bobby hoped reinforcements would arrive quickly.

Then Bobby saw Buddy, crouching at the outside edge of the camera well, looking to sneak between its rails and the wrestling match that had Bobby fully engaged. As Buddy made his move, Bobby lurched to his left, dragging Big Guy with him and momentarily pinning Buddy against the rails.

Somebody get here, Bobby thought desperately, as the effort to hold Big Guy left him unable to keep Buddy from wriggling free.

Then he saw it: A flash of light on metal. A blade, swinging around in Buddy's right hand. Bobby felt a stinging pain in his left side as the knife scraped along the bottom of his rib cage. He gritted his teeth and tried to shift Big Guy to free his left arm so he could stop Buddy, but Big Guy wasn't cooperating. Bobby saw Buddy's right hand rise, knife held firmly, this time ready to plunge directly toward Bobby's exposed left side. For a split second, as he saw the knife arc harshly downward, Bobby wondered if this was it.

And then a small but strong hand flew up and grabbed Buddy's wrist, jerking it back and smashing it repeatedly against the railing until the knife fell to the ground. Buddy was yanked forward, his arm twisted around his back in a hammerlock, and Bobby caught a glimpse of his partner's angry face. She pushed Buddy to the ground, cuffing him quickly as three more officers arrived. They helped Bobby take Big Guy to the ground and cuff him. The knife was secured as well.

Several more officers grabbed the two men, yanked them to their feet and hustled them to the far end of the dugout, away from the players and the other fans. It all happened so fast that few people even realized what was going on. Just a momentary disturbance that barely affected the huge celebration swirling around them.

Bobby and Alex stood there staring at each other for a moment. Bobby's brain was still processing what he had seen and felt and been rescued from. Suddenly Grimes appeared. "That was smooth," he said, his eyes full of respect as he looked at Alex. "Great work, Detectives."

Alex reached out and fingered the torn fabric of Bobby's dark blue shirt. Drawing back her hand, she saw red. "You're bleeding," she said simply.

Just then one of the Yankee players, who had been watching from the dugout, stepped up and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "You guys come with me. We can get you some help in the training room."

Grimes nodded. "It's quicker than trying to fight through the crowd and get to a first aid station."

With the player guiding them and his teammates stepping aside to clear a path, they left the field via the tunnel and headed to the Yankee clubhouse.


	3. Postgame

**Chapter 3: Postgame**

Bobby lay on a table in the training room, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled back from his chest. Alex perched on a stool next to his right shoulder. At his left side, one of the team doctors was stitching the slash along his ribs. A portable X-ray machine had just determined that no bones were broken. All he needed was little cleanup.

"You're very lucky, Bobby," the doctor told him. "Your ribs are bruised, and you'll be sore for a while, but if you keep this wound clean, everything will be fine. It could have been much worse."

"Yeah, tell me about it, Doc. My partner saved my life."

Alex blushed and frowned. "No way, Bobby. You had a good grip on those guys. I was just helping out a little."

Bobby's serious, deep brown eyes locked on to hers. "I saw what I saw, Eames. That knife was coming right at me, and you stopped it. You saved my life."

Embarrassed, she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Any time, partner. You'd do the same for me."

"Damn right," Bobby replied. "But you beat me to it." Then he smiled. "Guess I owe you dinner with all the trimmings, as soon as I feel up to it. That's the least I can do."

Alex returned the smile. "Now, that's a thank-you I'll enjoy."

Just then, the player who had shepherded them to the clubhouse appeared. "You guys doing OK?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Thanks for helping us out of there."

"Glad to. No telling what those guys would have done if you hadn't stopped them from getting to us," he said, shaking his head.

"Protect and serve, that's what we're here for," Alex said with a smile. "Sometimes it's just a little painful."

"Oh, it's nothing," Bobby said shyly. "Just a scratch."

"It's not nothing," the player said. "You two are heroes in my book."

He pulled a couple of baseballs out of his pocket, autographed one for Bobby and one for Alex, and gave them a big smile. "Anytime you need tickets, give me a call." Then he winked at Alex and turned away, returning to the locker room.

Alex smiled at the retreating figure, but then as she turned back to Bobby, her expression grew dark.

"What's the matter?" he asked her.

"I was just thinking … if I hadn't made such a big deal about this game, you wouldn't have gone to the trouble of getting us on the security detail, and you wouldn't have gotten hurt," she said. "I'm really sorry, Bobby."

"Hey," he said, grabbing her hand. "I'm not sorry, so don't you be, either. I'm glad we were here. This is nothing. It'll heal in no time. But all the great memories from tonight will be with us for the rest of our lives. I plan to cherish those memories."

The smile returned to Alex's face, bigger than ever. She squeezed his hand. Just then the doctor cleared his throat. "Maybe there's something else you two should consider."

"What's that?" Bobby asked, turning toward him.

"You were at the right place at the right time to save our players and fans from two dangerous men. If you hadn't been there, who knows whether the officers who replaced you would have managed to stop them? I, for one, am very glad you were at the game tonight. And I'll bet a lot of other people feel the same way."

"Thanks, Doc," Bobby said. "See, Alex? It was worth it in all kinds of ways."

Alex laughed. "OK, you win. But you can bet I'll be doing some hovering and nursing you back to health."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble," Bobby said, ducking his head shyly but thinking it would be mighty nice to have Alex as a nurse.

"No trouble," she said with a smirk. "I just want to get you back on your feet as soon as possible. After all, you owe me dinner."

"That'll be a reward for both of us," Bobby said with a gleam in his eye. "And I plan to make that another night to remember."

**End.**


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